


I'll Want You Till The Stars Evaporate

by Aanya_Inure



Category: Tales of Zestiria
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Reincarnation, Romance, Some angst, Sorey is reborn, Time Skips, as a baby etc, sorta?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-24
Updated: 2017-06-24
Packaged: 2018-11-18 08:46:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11287782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aanya_Inure/pseuds/Aanya_Inure
Summary: Mikleo chimes a laugh, the youth's eyes widening even further, onlooking and fully enchanted. “Slow down, little one,” he chides softly, letting his elbows perch on his knees. “How about you tell me your name first, and I'll tell you mine in turn.”“I'm Sorey!” young Sorey chirps brightly, stepping closer once more.“Nice to meet you, Sorey,” the seraph offers his hand, watching in quiet delight as the kid eagerly grabs his hand, seeming to marvel at the touch, before bringing his other hand to hold it too. “I'm Mikleo.”“Mik-lee-oh,” the child pronounces. His eyes alight once more, the sun pouring into his gaze. “A-are you the Grand Seraph Mikleo from the stories?!"





	I'll Want You Till The Stars Evaporate

**Author's Note:**

> Title is taken from the song Starlight by Starset.
> 
> Setting: So in this universe, Sorey's physical being has been completely used in cleansing the world of malevolence, but his soul is still alive. Maotelus has Sorey reborn. He's mostly human, but Maotelus has placed a bit of Seraph into his soul so he'll have a human body that will last forever. Mikleo has to cope.

The silence settles over them. He can already feel the eyes peeling towards him.

“You can all stop looking at me like I'm about to shatter.”

Zaveid grunts, looking away, while Lailah covers her mouth with her papers, gaze dropping to the ground. Edna huffs. “We're just making sure you're not about to pop scales, Meebo. No one wants a Dragleo.”

Mikleo crosses his arms, closing his eyes. “Then you're all underestimating me,”

Lailah shakes her head. “It's not that we're underestimating you, Mikleo-san. We just-”

“Think I'm taking the news better than you thought I would?”

The quiet answers him fully.

Shaking his head, ponytail swinging, he clicks his tongue. “It's been six hundred years and you all still think of me like I'm a child.” Reaching a hand to play with the end of his hair, his right arm tucks gently behind him, stare dipping low. “We all knew the possibilities when he went to sleep, and even before we ever left Elysia, Gramps told me I was to make peace with the fact that I'd always outlive Sorey.”

Jutting his chin, violet eyes steel. “Maotelus said Sorey will be born again, and I believe him. Even if it's not the same Sorey, or even a Sorey that remembers me, or the Sorey I...” hidden hand fisting, the water seraph jerks his head. “No matter what, I'll keep our dream going. And I'll find him again, if only to watch over him even.”

His eyes close, lips smiling. “That...is enough for me.”

No one answers, Zaveid still facing a lost breeze, Edna turning away, showing only the shell of her umbrella. Lailah stares at the resolve of her friend, swallowing the deep sorrow seated in her chest at the sight. The dark emerald of her eyes sparkle sadly, but nonetheless, she looks upon the sight proudly.

Mikleo has withstood so much. He's gotten so strong, she thinks, marveling at the respected seraph before her and his regal stance of straight spine and level expression. Part of her almost wishes though, that he'd mourn. That he'd stomp his foot at the unfairness of it all, after all their sacrifices; she finds herself wondering if perhaps there was a part of him too, that was screaming in frustration, and if really his whole being could be satisfied with this.

The Lady of the Lake has no choice but to resign at such resoluteness. 

She says, only lightly; “we'll know his soul when we see it.”

 

*

 

Mikleo is there when he's born.

Reincarnated into a once miscarried womb, he comes out scrunched, a pinched face, all pink, and crying his lungs clear. The mother swaddles the infant in white cloth and cradles him close.

His soul is exactly as the seraph remembers. Clear, bright, and golden. Only now, a small particle is no longer a human soul. A glint of silver, a small implant of Maotelus' doing to carry the once-shepherd through eternal years when he reaches of age. 

The woman turns to him, eyes still bright, basking in the glow of first-time motherhood. Her face is still flushed from the exertion of labor, but the tears pricking her eyes have nothing to do with pain. She turns to Mikleo.

“Grand Seraph Mikleo, would you like to hold him?”

Mikleo sucks in a breath, feeling his chest tighten with both want and refusal, but he nods anyways, and his arms slowly accept the small weight of his lost friend.

Tucked tightly to his chest, the babe's fading cries halt immediately. A tiny fist takes purchase to the cloth fold at the seraph's chest, and in one small movement, little lids lift to view the world for the first time.

Overcome with warmth at the unfocused stare of Sorey's infant eyes, Mikleo nestles him close, and the newborn settles softly under his chin like he's made to be there.

The water seraph whispers softly against his skull, a blessing over him. As well as the quietest _welcome back_.

He returns the babe to his mother, and leaves Elysia three days after.

 

*

 

He means to return in six months, but his sense of mortal time escapes him and he returns around Sorey's fourth birthday.

Walking over the hill crest into the familiar territory of his childhood sends Mikleo into sentimental memories, but he forges forward, and is greeted by several familiar faces, and even more unfamiliar ones; the small village having grown in numbers as one of the most close knitted and diverse towns to stand. Humans and seraphim alike live in the quaint cottages, smoke billowing above campfires with the wafting scent of boar roasting over an open flame. Elysia has remained its own territory, kept away from the claws of bigger cities and greedy monarch's to keep it's eden glory.

Mikleo has just exited his old home (though rebuilt many times under the wear of time), having placed his small pack and travel trinkets to his bed when he notices a small figure peeking around the bend of his cabin.

Wide green eyes blinking at him, a shimmer of awe awakening the forest green before the mop of brown ducks away. Little fingers still clutching the corner of the cottage, his eyes peep over once more, meeting amused violet.

_Sorey..._

Mikleo's chest aches with fondness. He looks just the same as he had in his previous life at this age.

_If only Gramps were here to see this..._

Feeling light, the water seraph's straight lips smile. He slows himself into a crouch, graceful as a river stream. “Hey there.”

Little Sorey startles at being addressed, but peels away from the wall with intrigue glowing emerald in his eyes. His fingers fidget with one another as he approaches, head ducking with a smile. “H-hi Mr. Seraph.”

_Ah, shier than before I think._

The child's cheeks inflate, only to burst a moment later. “Can I know your name? Where did you come from? Have you been here before? You're a water seraph, right? You have to be!”

_...never mind._

Mikleo chimes a laugh, the youth's eyes widening even further, onlooking and fully enchanted. “Slow down, little one,” he chides softly, letting his elbows perch on his knees. “How about you tell me your name first, and I'll tell you mine in turn.”

“I'm Sorey!” young Sorey chirps brightly, stepping closer once more. 

“Nice to meet you, Sorey,” the seraph offers his hand, watching in quiet delight as the kid eagerly grabs his hand, seeming to marvel at the touch, before bringing his other hand to hold it too. “I'm Mikleo.”

“Mik-lee-oh,” the child pronounces. His eyes alight once more, the sun pouring into his gaze. “A-are you the Grand Seraph Mikleo from the stories?! The one that's traveled, the author of those books, and-”

Mikleo shrugs his affirmation, letting his hand remain clutched in the small grasp of the youth before him.

Sorey gasps, cheeks blushing. “Wah! So cool! I didn't-! I never thought...!”

“Mm? What is it Sorey?” 

The child drops his chin bashfully. Instead of fidgeting with his own fingers, he now traces the seraph's fingers. “Well I've heard a ton of stories about you...your strength...your loyalty...your beauty and grace...”

_Oh..._

Mikleo sighs, knowing that tales of him are often twisted into exaggeration, and many of his escapades are sculpted by the storytellers into exciting pieces of history. Not that he _is_ short on achievements, but humans still have a tendency to overemphasize his doings.

“B-but I followed you to your cabin because...” here, his head jerks up, eyes squeezing shut as if to close all other cavities of his body to force the volume through his mouth alone. “You're the most beautiful seraph I've ever seen!!” he yells, cheeks blossoming apple red. His eyes snap open once more, flooding with enamor.

The so called seraph of legend finds his jaw dropping, pale cheeks tinting the lightest shade of pink under the full honesty and charm bleeding from the boys' visage.

His heart patters with joy, because, of course, _of course_ , Sorey would...

 _You...really don't change_. Eyes stinging, he closes them to ensure nothing leaks. _Still so honest, so embarrassing..._

Taking a steady breath, Mikleo lets his nostalgia bleed into a beautiful laugh. “Thank you, Sorey. That's very sweet of you,” hand still held in the others' smaller ones, he carefully brings his other forward to return the grasp. “Speaking of sweets, would you like to help me make some soft serve?” his eyes shimmer as he winks. “I'm told I make it well.”

Sorey's smile stretches a mile wide. 

 

*

 

Mikleo's there for his first cartwheel. He's the one who teaches Sorey to swim, to use earth's herbs as natural remedies and ointments. He tells him stories every night, tucks the child in bed soundly under a lullaby. Gently, he heals any scabs and cuts left on young skin from the daily adventures, and promises even better memories to be made tomorrow. The seraph's escapades away from Elysia are often, but shortened to only few weeks at a time so as not to be absent during his friends second youth.

But when Sorey is eleven, he has to go.

Something in the east has stirred, and a couple young shepherds are called away. Lailah requests Mikleo be a prime-lord again, as his experience is best suited for the chore.

Sorey throws a fit.

And Mikleo can only promise to meet again another day; he leaves with a farewell, clasping one of the orange feathers at his ear and transferring one to Sorey's. His goodbye is said through a kiss to his crown.

 

*

 

Sorey is sixteen and looks just the same as when he went to sleep.

It startles Mikleo, when he reaches Elysia and through the crowd that greets him warmly, comes charging a familiar figure. He only has time to gasp before they launch towards him in a gargantuan hug, arms thicker, stomach harder. Baby fat still lingers at his cheeks, but his eyes sparkle just the same, and the seraph sighs at the feeling of home.

“ _Mikleo_! I'm so happy you're back!”

_Ah..._

“Me too, Sorey.”

_He still says my name just the same..._

“You've grown so much.”

Scratching behind his head sheepishly, his friend flares pink. His joy broils beneath his skin and slides into a dazzling grin. Mikleo watches as that gaze drags up and down his frame. “You look just the same, though your hair's a bit longer...”

Mikleo cocks his head, smile teasing. “Is that a bad thing?”

Not missing a beat, Sorey shakes his head. “No,” he swears, eyes warm. “You're perfect.”

The seraph sucks in a sharp breath, looking away and tucking a strand behind his ear. He's removed his gloves, and becomes all the more aware of this fact when the younger reaches for his hand to give it a squeeze. The other, calloused and several shades darker than his own porcelain pallor, grabs the end of the long braid resting over his shoulder. Sorey's fingers fidget with the plait, stroking the silver-blue strands where they stop near above Mikleo's hips.

He only lets them stare at one another for a moment longer, before the seraph pulls away and changes the topic, setting Sorey down a path of ruin-rant to distract from the pile of emotions surrounding.

 _Quiet_ , he tells his beating heart.

_There's no need for stuff like that._

Trailing behind the excited half-human, he grips his own elbow and looks down.

_This...this is enough._

 

*

 

Mikleo lasts just over two years.

And crumbles when Sorey kisses him.

“I-I've always really admired you...” the other is stuttering, flustered and fidgety. “And I know you probably still think of me as just that silly little human boy but-” he startles to a stop, eyes large. “Mikleo...y-you're crying..?”

And the seraph breaks, running away. “I'm...I'm sorry!”

In the middle of the night, he disappears.

 

*

 

“Idiot.”

The water seraph sighs. “I know what you think, Edna. You've said it enough.”

“Stupid.”

A huff. “Are you done yet?”

“Blockhead.”

“Can you-”

“Dunce-leo.”

“ _Okay_!” Mikleo shouts. “I _get_ it! You think I'm being foolish! But what _else_ am I supposed to do? What could I _say_?!”

The petite blonde snorts, umbrella spinning on her shoulder. “You've waited literal centuries for him, and then run away when you finally have your chance. Why not tell him you feel the same way so you nerds can kiss and get it over with already?”

He shakes his head. “I _can't_. I'd basically be lying to him. No, even worse. I'd be pretending this Sorey is the same as the last one. But this Sorey...I can't...he's not...”

“Lemme guess. He's not _your_ Sorey?”

Mikleo falters, nodding. “I mean, he looks, acts, and talks just like him...”

Edna raises a brow, condescending. “So, whats the problem then Meebo?”

“I'd...” the water seraph shrinks within himself, fingers grappling his hair as his forehead falls to his palms. His knees bend until they almost touch the earth, back sliding against the stone slab to lean his lurching weight. “I can't deceive him like this.”

Swallowing hard, Mikleo trembles. “This Sorey...he's in love with the idea of me. Of this great, _legendary_ seraph who he could look up to when he was young. I'm this pretty thing on a pedestal. Even if the old Sorey didn't love me the same way...he still...he still...”

The earth seraph sits in the dirt beside him, face carefully blank. “Still knew you for you.”

Sadly, he nods again. “He knew the silliest, stupidest parts of me,” he chuckles wetly. “And I him. But we loved each other despite them. Even if only platonically on his part. And I just...I can't...”

The weight of six hundred plus years without his best friend collapses on him, and he holds himself together in scraps. Edna stays silent, as neither mentions the small hand that caresses his hair softly in comfort.

 

*

 

Sorey finds him when he's twenty.

Mikleo stands ankle deep in the shallows of a little lake, with a small waterfall spraying into it's mouth an arc of a rainbow. The water is crystal clear and cool, refreshing after a long week spent scavenging a nearby ruin sight within dips of caves and caverns.

His normal travel garb has been traded for a more formal attire of blue, white and gold. The armored boots he usually adorns with the outfit are discarded in the forest grass at the pond's side, leaving his legs mostly bare to the misty spray. The cloth hangs downwards, starting at his navel and as wide as to the middle of his thighs, with the sides of his legs left to the air. The back flares at his hips, but stops at the back of his legs, descending upwards into a fitted tunic, hugging high at his collar, yet swooping down in a tight sleeve to only one wrist, the other arm left bear save the golden band clasped to his bicep.

The attire is for his trip to Ladylake, where he will be in acquaintance with the current King. Lailah is sure to be there, he ponders, and looks forward to catching up with the fire seraph and reminiscing pleasantries.

It's as he frees his hair from its bind and shakes free the tension does he feel the eyes.

“Luzrov Rulay.”

Mikleo inhales sharply, feeling the name, the voice, everything about the short sentence trickle over his spine like butterfly wings brushing by.  
He turns slowly, feeling the earth around him fall still with the static in his ears, and despite his element and the basis of what he's standing in, his throat becomes dreadfully parched.

Sorey stands beneath the forest branches, a little taller, a little broader. His jawline has lost it's baby curve, and his hair is shorter above his ears, spikier across his head, and falling longer at the base of the neck, where a clump of strands reach between his shoulders.

The forest greenery heightens the shade of his juniper gaze, and the water seraph finds himself frozen under the strange knowledge that lingers there.

“..So...rey...” is whispered, slipping from pale lips unbidden. Sorey responds by stepping closer.

“Luzrov Rulay,” he chants, again, voice clear and cut. Mikleo's gut coils hot once more, feeling his knees quiver under the force of his true name ringing through the air.

The former shepherd chuckles, eyes crinkling. “I'll never get sick of saying it.”

Tongue like cotton, the seraph strangles words together. “W-who told you...?”

“You did.”

 _Impossible_ , he thinks. But the face before him reads true. Yet that would mean...

“When we were younger. Well, the first time I was, at least.”

_No..._

Mikleo shakes his head, closing his eyes, even as he hears the removal of boots and feels the currents ripple as someone strides through the waters towards him. 

_Impossible._

“Mikleo.”

_I swore I'd never let myself hope..._

“My best friend.”

_Never let myself imagine..._

“My one and only.”

His chin his lifted. The hand is familiar and warm, calloused in all the right places. Hot breath fans across his face, and a thumb traces his bottom lip.

“Luzrov Rulay,” the brunette's voice pleads. “ _Please_ , open your eyes.”

Sucking his breath in sluggishly, Mikleo's exhale shudders. Sobs are stuck in his chest, as disbelief and hope and want and floods of emotions keep him clammed tightly. But with such a plea, he finds his eyelids lifting, and when violet meets the open air, orbs of emerald glisten with fresh tears.

“It's me,” Sorey laughs, droplets pooling over the rim of his lashes. “I remember. Everything. I _remember_.”

The seraph swallows again, lip quivering. 

_It can't be..._

_Is it...?_

“Sorey...”

“Yes.”

“Sorey?”

“Yes!”

Mikleo chokes, smiling.

“ _Sorey_!”

Sorey's laugh outshines the sun, and in one fluid motion, he's swooped the seraph into his hands and spun, splashing about. Mingling laughter and tears chime through the forest and carry in the light breeze. Hands purchased on the former shepherd's shoulders, they spin until gravity defies them, but even that doesn't keep them down, as Mikleo is brought forehead to forehead with Sorey, and they press close, trying to seep into each others skin; to breathe in the reality of this moment.

It's but two seconds more until their lips are pressed together and desperate. Mikleo's creamy thigh curls around Sorey's hip, one foot still tip-toed in the wet sand to retain balance as he's held close.

Barely allowing one another to breathe, their dance of reunion lasts a long time, neither willing to part lest it disappear the moment they do. As Sorey's mouth strays all along the graceful curve of the seraph's neck, Mikleo sighs his complacency, a sensual sound as his mouth forms the name he's longed for.

“I'm so happy,” Sorey whispers at a fluttering pulse. “So, _so_ , happy.”

As the seraph continues to make quiet sounds of satisfaction at the adoration given to his pale skin, the brunette continues, voice reverent. “You waited for me. _Waited_. For _me_.”

A sharp hitch of breath, Mikleo breathes, “always.”

“And I can finally have you. _God, Mikleo_ , you're finally _mine_.”

He shudders again, smiling. “Always.”

And their souls blended brightly.

 

 

*

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed! Leave a comment or kudos to let me know ^.^


End file.
